


Modern Swinger

by onceuponachildhood



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, and revenge, oh hey it's a hate-love relationship, oh my, plus dirty deals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponachildhood/pseuds/onceuponachildhood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Subtle as a splinter; a clash of personality and duty and emotion. Told over time, an AU based on the Yellow trailer. "You find this woman for me and I'll leak you information from the Hunter's Association."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Swinger

**Author's Note:**

> Told over time; each number represents how old Yang is at the time of the drabble. Junior-focused.

**S E V E N T E E N:**

After it's all over, he has time to think.

  
Walking through the wreckage, he's furious. How dare that little bitch tear through and thoroughly destroy his favorite club? Glass crunches under his heels as he surveys the damage. His cronies- usually more than enough to stop a threat- are picking themselves up and limping to help the less fortunate of their ranks. He sees some broken bones. Quite a few shattered noses and bloodied lips. And everyone with a bruised ego.

  
Melanie and Miltia are both hobbling around, but otherwise okay. Junior is both disappointed in their failure and relieved at their relativly unharmed state. He will need them while his flunkies are recovering. They look over at him, expressions wary. He can see the fear in their widened eyes. They know just as he knows that they have failed him. He doesn't want to think about what others in his line of work might decide is appropriate retribution. Instead, he gestures toward the henchmen who are able to stand. True to form, the twins waste no time in taking over command of the cleanup.

  
\---

  
Sitting at home in his favorite armchair, he's curious. It's his job to be curious, really. To deal in secrets, dabble in spying, to know things- it's a dangerous line of work. But not knowing can be more dangerous, as the night had proved to him several bruises over. He wants to know who it is that cost him so much; who it is that little Blondie is looking for. His muscles throb and his wounds twinge; somewhere some of his men are in a hospital and others are explaining to their wives why they're so hurt. The desire for revenge fills him, hot and intense, as he thinks about the girl who ruined a year's worth of work or more in a single night. It's then that the idea hits him- he can find this woman that Blondie is looking for. Find her, and make sure that Blondie never does. He has the resources, he knows. Roman, for one. Roman, who he's hidden from police and bailed out of sticky situations, who he's handled many a dirty deal for. There are others, of course, but others he would prefer not owing.

  
He'll get back at the blonde, one way or another.

* * *

 

**E I G H T E E N:**

It's quiet on the roof. He likes to come up here sometimes, when the noise of the club and the closeness of his henchmen turn grating. The air is cool, almost cold, and all he can hear is the occasional car going by or the soft beat of the bass downstairs. He exhales and watches the vapor rise up into the night sky. The door creaks open behind him, and he waits for the twins to tell him he's needed downstairs.

  
The voice is still familiar to him, over a year after he heard it last. "Someone told me I'd find you up here, Junior."

  
"You-!" He spins, his weapon already raised to strike.

  
Her hands fly up in a defensive gesture, gauntlets still inactive. "Whoa, hey, cool your jets! I'm just here to talk." He pauses but doesn't lower his bat. "Look, I left your club in one piece and everything."

  
"How'd you get past my men?"

  
She smiles- no, smiles isn't the right word for it, he thinks. She grins, all bluster and pride. "I told them I could either talk to you peacefully, or we could go for round two." Her grin relaxes, and she looks him in the eye. "I'm seriously just here to talk. You're all about talk, right?"

  
"Yeah." He lowers the bat but doesn't let go of it, leaning his back against the railing. She walks over next to him, slow and steady, before resting her arms on the top rail. She faces the opposite direction, looking out over the empty streets. Because she is not looking and because he can, he looks over at her. Studies her. She's taller, but not by much. Her gauntlets look newer, more advanced. He's learned what he can about her since their last encounter, which is less than he would like. He knows her name is Yang, and she's a student at Beacon. She has a sister who has given Roman quite a bit of headache in the past. She's an energetic person and fighter who routinely gets cited for taking rules into her own hands. Other than this, he knows nothing but what he saw when she first attacked his club. It's not for a lack of trying, though. There is almost nothing on her. It's like she's been hidden, or erased, and the only reason there's a record of her now is her enrollment at Beacon. Although if she's in a school like that, she shouldn't be talking to guys like him.

  
She doesn't look at him when she speaks, keeping her eyes on some building in the dark. "I have a proposition for you." That's not what he's expecting her to say at all. "You've been looking for the same person I have." It's true, of course, and he wonders how she found out. "You also have far more resources than I do. You've got quite a reputation."

  
"Betcha wish you'd have asked nicely, eh Blondie?" He can't help but hold it over her head. She laughs and it's nothing like it was before. There's no joy in it, only self loathing, and Junior is confused as to why he doesn't like the sound of it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Blondie _sir_."

  
"I'm sure you know that I'm on the fast track to be a huntress." She lets the joke roll off her back, a phoenix letting embers fall off its feathers, and suddenly she is looking him dead in the eyes. "And I can't help but think having an in with the hunters and huntresses would be valuable to a man in your position."

  
She isn't saying what he thinks she's saying. She _can't_ be saying what he thinks she's saying. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  
"You find this woman for me and I'll leak you information from the Hunter's Association."

* * *

 

**T W E N T Y - O N E:**

The bar is loud, louder than most places Junior voluntarily goes. Louder than his club. The place is also packed, warm even for a fall evening due to the immense body heat. Packed and loud- a good place to meet someone if you want it to be innocuous. Junior looks at the flat whiskey sour in his hand and scowls. Better booze would mean a better wait.

  
Gold glints in his peripheral vision; her body bumps against his as she shoves her way up to the bar. "You look like somebody took a piss in your drink."

  
"Something like that." He laughs, soft and natural.

  
She waves a hand at the bartender. "Strawberry sunrise, no ice. And one of those umbrellas, if you've got 'em." The bartender raises an eyebrow at her, then at Junior, who shrugs. "It's been a long day. I'd like a treat."

  
Junior watches the bartender roll his eyes and turn to make her drink before he speaks. "A long day?"

  
"Commissioning ceremony." She doesn't even turn to look as her drink is placed on the bar, grabbing it with one hand and sliding money toward the waiting man with the other. "I'm officially a huntress."

  
Junior doesn't miss the way the bartender's eyes widen. "You may wanna watch who you announce that to, Blondie. Might get yourself into some trouble." She grins behind the umbrella. "People talk."

  
She laughs, swatting at his arm. "Oh, Junior, relax. It's not like I'm talking to a convicted criminal or anything." Her grin tightens. "You're just a wealthy nightclub owner. A businessman. And I'm just here for a drink."

  
"I was just here for a drink too, but it seems there are other... opportunities here." He takes her hand into his, pressing a little drive into her palm. "And perhaps you and I could go somewhere a little more quiet?"

  
The bartender gives him a lecherous look as they make their way to the side door, but at least his mind is off the blonde's occupation.

  
\---

  
The alleyway is dark. Private. Yang wastes no time in slipping the drive into her pocket. "It's all the information I've got on your target so far," Junior explains.

  
Perhaps his wording throws her off. She blinks before she gets her mouth working again. "Good. I'll follow that up later. And I'll keep an eye out for anything you'll need to know from my end. I wasn't kidding about your record, though. You're squeaky clean, somehow."

  
"Oh, you looked me up. How sweet." He chuckles.

  
She ignores the comment. "I'll keep an eye out for your buddy Roman too. You just keep me updated on any leads on my _target_."

  
The inflection doesn't escape his notice. "I haven't found out much other than a couple sightings. Certainly nothing to tie her to you. Why are you looking for this woman, anyway?"

  
It might be a trick of the light but Junior thinks her eyes burn red. She is warm- overly warm, almost hot- when she steps into his space and wraps deceptively delicate fingers around his tie. "You make a habit of asking clients why they want the information you've got?"

  
"Only if I think they're gonna get me killed." His reply is honest. She can hear it in the waver in his voice.

  
"She doesn't want to kill you," Yang offers. He tells himself not to relax. Everything about her- her voice, her stance, her eyes- warns him not to. "But I might. Don't ask again."

  
"Roger that, sir."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He almost doesn't recognize her when she walks in. It makes sense, of course, as they are at a masquerade. The Governor's masquerade, to be exact. Neutral ground. Somewhere he might be expected to be, in disguise, but not where she would be for any reason.

  
She doesn't make her way directly to him, of course. It would be entirely too obvious if she just walked up to him. Instead, she meanders around the edges of the crowd, her midnight blue dress a beacon in the brightly lit room. He doesn't move from his spot speaking to Governor's secretary. Camilla is excellent company, and handles all of the Governor's more... intricate deals.

  
"Excuse me." They both turn. Her hair is pulled back, tight, the chignon completely opposite from her usual wild style. Her eyes focus on the secretary, visible behind her silver mask. "Might I borrow this gentleman for a dance?"

  
The secretary is unused to such forward women, but she takes a step away from them with good grace. "Be my guest."

  
He doesn't know what to expect. Nothing in his intelligence has said she could dance. And yet as the band begins a new song- and of course it would be a waltz, why wouldn't it be- she follows his lead smoothly. "I didn't know you could dance." Of all the stupid, cliche things to say. Well, at least she wasn't laughing. He might not be able to keep his cool if she laughed.

  
"It was my father's idea."

  
She never offered up information like this. "Your father's idea?" He wants to know more. Of course he wants to know more. It was his line of work, his life. It had nothing to do with the woman in front of him. Nothing at all.

  
"Grace on the dance floor would lend grace on the battlefield, or so he said." There was that twinkle that meant either something was funny or someone was about to get punched. "I think it was mostly to give my sister and I something to focus on other than weapons."

  
He looks at her long, flowing sleeves. Sleeves that are probably hiding Ember Celica. Judging from her grin when she notices him looking, that would be a yes. "Something tells me it didn't work."

  
"Fighting's a lot like dancing." Her grin only got more dangerous. She was definitely wanting a fight. "You hired those twins. Ever watch them fight?"

  
"Point taken."

  
He hadn't even noticed the song had changed until she picks up pace. Usually partners would give each other a bit more space, but she seems perfectly comfortable where she was. Odd, considering how close she was to his chest. "Any word on our deal?" Well, that would explain it. Junior shakes his head, both clearing his thoughts and answering her question.

  
She pulls closer to him, casting her eyes down and letting a blush rise to her cheeks. To anyone watching, it would look like she was saying something intimate to him. "The Hunters are planning a raid. Next week. The warehouse by dock seven." That wasn't one of his, even if he did have people there. Spies, really. "I know that's one of your enemies, but you've got time to get your people out."

  
The music winds down and she steps away from him, curtseying just enough to give a decent dancing partner respect. She wanders back into the crowd, and his eyes aren't the only ones that track her progress.

  
"You've got an interesting girl there, Junior." Camilla walks up beside him, watching the blonde dance with some random admirer.

  
He opens his mouth to correct her- Blondie isn't his at all; they've just got a deal- but he doesn't. He sighs instead, exasperated at the whole mess. "I guess so."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He knows the girl even before she walks up to him, even before she holds out a little hand for him to shake, even before she opens her mouth and says "Hi Junior! I'm Ruby Rose."

  
He shakes her hand even though every lick of sense in his head warns him to tell her to scram. "Can I help you?"

  
"Think we can talk somewhere a little quieter?" She gestures to the DJ. "It's awfully noisy in here and I'm a little young for, uh, drinks."

  
He leads her to the upstairs office and ignores the warning bells going off in his head. He rather wishes he had when as soon as the door is behind him she whips out a giant gun and levels it at him. She's given Roman a world of trouble. Her dream job was to work for the law. Why any of this- inviting her in, leaving the security of his henchmen- seemed like a good idea he doesn't know. He raises his hands in a surrender gesture but otherwise stays quiet.

  
"What are you doing with my sister?"

  
 _Oh_. Maybe this is a bit more personal. Emotional. He can work with that. "I'm not doing anything with-"

  
"She keeps meeting you places!" Her voice wavers but the gun sure as hell doesn't. "She's been meeting with you for years. Since before Beacon!"

  
Junior sees the opportunity in her wording and he takes it. "Yes. _She_ keeps meeting _me_. Believe me, Blondie's been meeting me of her own choice."

  
The tip of the gun lowers. Lowers more. Ruby sits it muzzle down on the floor and leans on it. "I don't care what your record says. I know you've been up to some shady stuff. " He doesn't say anything, letting her mind work itself out. "So why is she meeting with you?"

  
"I assume you know I deal in information." A nod and a glare. He didn't expect anything less. "Why would someone meet with me then?"

  
"She made a contract with you?"

  
Junior relaxes, leaning against the edge of his desk. He had her in his court now. "I certainly can't tell you if she did. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. Clients expect certain things from me." He can see her trying to reconcile her idea of her sister with the reality of the woman. "If she is a client, I cannot tell you. If you really want to know, I suggest you ask her yourself."

  
"What, and have her tell me _don't worry about it, little sis_? _You'll understand when you're older_?" The girl is leaning on her gun now, face scrunched in anger. "No thanks. It's easier to go to the source." She looks up at him now, expression surprisingly apologetic. "Sorry about the whole threatening-you-with-my-gun thing. I promise I'm not usually mean if someone's not a threat."

  
"You think I'm a threat to your sister?" Junior laughs. It's bitter and tasteless and he can tell it makes her uncomfortable. Good. Guns in the face aren't comfortable either. "Clearly you have a different memory of the first night she and I met."

  
"Oh. Right."

  
Junior walks past the girl and opens the door, gesturing toward the stairs. "Look, you should talk to her. Maybe try that before threatening random people."

  
"And you can't tell me why?" Her eyes are hopeful.

  
"I won't."

  
Maybe she understands from his wording. Maybe she just knows she won't get anything from him. Either way, she leaves.

 

* * *

 

**T W E N T Y - T W O:**

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that he doesn't know where he is. The second is how much better the back of his eyelids look rather than the bright sunlight streaming through the window. The sheets are scratchy against his chest, and the pajama bottoms are someone else's flannel.

  
His head pounds as he rolls over, and is faced with a familiar mass of golden hair.

  
There is a minute, a full minute, where his brain just quits. Maybe two. Maybe five. It's long enough that she has time to sit up, stretch, and pad her way over to the kitchen. They're in a tiny studio apartment. Her apartment. She gets down two mugs and fills them with beautiful black coffee. By time she makes her way back over to him, he is sitting up and less confused. He remembers fire. And shouting. The smell of burnt flesh-

  
His retch is cut short by the smell of coffee filling his nose. "Here." She's terse and solemn, holding the cup under his nose. "It'll help."

  
She sits down next to him, bare thigh pressing against his leg. "What do you remember?"

  
"Not much." He is surprised by how scratchy his voice sounds. Like he was drinking smoke, not coffee. "A lot of... chaos."

  
She exhales, her fingers wrapped around her mug. "You were, ah, meeting with a client." He nods. That much he remembers. "There was an attack. Winged Grimm." Her knuckles were white. How was she not burning her hands on her hot cup? "One of them breathed fire."

  
He sees red- blazing red, burning red- red eyes and red fire and red, red blood. She whisks the cup away and hands him something. It feels good against his warm hands. Cool. He presses it to his face until he smells wet cotton.

  
She seems sympathetic. "Sorry. I, uh, tried to get as many people out as I could, but my patrol partner was injured. You were the last I found." Alive, implied but silent, hangs in the air between them.

  
"You brought me to your house?"

  
She is holding her mug again, tight white knuckles and all. "You were with one of your shadier clients. You would have been taken in for questioning, if not straight arrested. The police didn't see you, and I don't know where you live." She gives him a grin, fragile and strained. He can see a claw mark on the side of her face that wasn't there a week ago. "My place was close enough I could drop you off and get back to make my report before anyone noticed me missing."

  
She hasn't just saved him, though he is grateful of that. She has saved his ability to dance along the line of legal and illegal dealings. His cover as nothing more than a prolific businessman is still as solid as ever. His reputation- a safe, untouched dealer in secrets and information- is intact. The silence bothers her, or maybe the sitting still, and she walks over to the window.

  
There is too much hurt pride between them for him to thank her. She doesn't seem to expect the thanks, her silhouette rigid in the morning sun. They drink the coffee in silence.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He is at Roman's villa when a familiar voice whispers into his ear. "Boo!"

  
He spins, eyes wide, ready for anger or shock or secret glee if Roman throws her out. What he is not expecting is a woman dressed for seduction, from her delicate heels to her red-painted lips. He only blinks, confused, as Yang chuckles and slips past him. She walks steady and determined right up to Roman, and he waits for the fallout.

  
"Hello, Mr. Torchwick." Her eyelashes couldn't be any longer; her chest any more framed by her silk-gloved arms. "Might I have a word with you in private?"

  
He turns as if to eye her with disdain before kicking her out, but she is more notorious than she gives herself credit for. "Aren't you a Huntress? Not here to attempt to arrest me, are you?"

  
"Not at all." She grins at him. "Life isn't always about the law, Roman. I'm here for business."

  
"Dressed like that?"

  
Her grin widens; Junior can see it from where he stands, and a sinking feeling settles in his stomach. "Oh, well, I much prefer to do business the pleasant way. I can do it the hard way if you'd like, but you can ask your buddy Junior over there how well that works out."

  
He wants to sink into the floor or throttle her or both. Roman chuckles, but it is much warmer than his tone before. "You deal with Junior?"

  
"On occasion." She looks over at him before returning her attention to Torchwick. "You think you can deal with me?"

  
"Perhaps. If you'd like to step this way, we can talk."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She gets invited back to Roman's villa, which surprises him more than her sneaking in to begin with. He can't wrap his head around the idea, but Roman made it clear he thought she was quite a trip. "She's got spunk," he had explained, "and it's not a bad thing to have resources that can think for themselves."

  
He wants her to know she's being used, that there's nothing Roman can offer her that his own resources can't already. Not that it matters if she's being used. He doesn't really care or anything. It's just a waste of time to get involved with someone like Roman if you're not getting anything out of it.

  
He finds her in the well-stocked gym. She is down to a tank top and shorts, her arms bare of her traditional weapon, wrapped instead in bandages. She is working a punching bag, fists and feet flying in rhythmic patterns. She glances over at him when he walks up, but says nothing. As concentrated as she is, Junior thinks she doesn't know that she's grinning. "I've never seen you fight without Ember Cecila."

  
"Yeah, I prefer not to." The thumps don't slow even as she speaks. "But if I can't deal some damage alone, I'm not gonna deal much more with them."

  
Junior watches her work, hair bouncing and skin glistening with sweat. "Enjoying your stay here?"

  
She looks over her shoulder at him, pausing only to grin wider than she had been before. "Oh, yes. I'm getting everything I need."

  
"Getting everything you need?" He raises an eyebrow. "What sort of deal did you make with Roman?"

  
She stops, putting out a hand to halt the swing of the punching bag. "Any particular reason you want to know?" He can hear the taunting in her voice. She's _teasing_ him, dammit, and he's just trying to be decent.

  
He follows her progress with his eyes as she walks over to a bottle of water and a towel. "Just that you're no good to me if you get fucked over or killed doing something for Roman."

  
She eyes him over the towel before she speaks. "All I'm doing is providing him a little bit of the information I give you." She takes a long drink of her water before moving toward him. "And Roman has offered to let me have a place to get away from the city if I need to. So maybe he's giving me some information in return. He just doesn't have to know that." The pure audacity of her statement prevents him from responding. She gestures to the door before returning to the bag.

  
\---

  
Junior goes to give Roman his part of the payout from a recent deal, which is the reason he had come to the villa in the first place. As he hands over the suitcase, Roman puffs on a cigar. "How'd you meet the dame, anyway?"

  
"Blondie?" At the other man's nod, Junior chuckles. "Our first meeting was more of an... altercation."

  
"You start a fight with her? That's not your style."

  
"Oh, no. She picked a fight with me. Brought the heat, too." Junior meets Roman's eyes, and he hopes the warning is clear in that glance. "She's trouble. Impressive, wily, and smart. She's _bad_ trouble."

  
Torchwick nods, cigar smoke drifting up between them. "I'll keep an eye on her."

  
\---

  
The next time he sees Roman it's a week later, and the man storms into his club with a truly impressive shiner. "Roman, hey. Something happen?"

  
"That dame of yours happened. She hasn't run back to you and reported it?"

  
Junior laughs long and loud, even as he gestures to his bartender for a drink. "I'm sorry if you ever got the impression she was working for me. She made a deal with me, and that makes her a client." He slides the completed whiskey to his angry business partner. "But she's deadly. I tried to warn you, but I didn't want to impede on your judgement."

  
Roman takes the drink and calms a little. "She was sneaking around and gathering intel from me. I don't even know what she nabbed!"

  
"You confronted her about it, I assume."

  
He downs the drink in three gulps, and the glass thuds when he slams it down. "Some little bitch thinks she can sneak in, steal information, and then just waltz out? Oh, no. I confronted her."

  
"You... didn't allow her weapons, did you?"

  
Roman glances over at him. "Didn't even know if she used weapons." He snorts. "She's got a mean pair of fists, but it's the feet I didn't see coming."

  
"Like a bombshell," Junior mutters.

  
Roman glares at him before straightening. "You tell her when she comes back by that she's made a new enemy." He meets Junior's eyes, and there's a warning in that gaze now. "One that will have revenge if she dares put a toe in my direction."

  
\---

  
She comes in the next day.

  
He doesn't even waste time when she makes her way to him. "What sort of info were you looking for?"

  
She leans up against the bar, sliding a drive toward him as stealthily as possible. "I had suspicions from the intel you've gathered that my target has been on his payroll recently." She smirks, but her eyes narrow. "And I was right."

  
"I assume this is what you gathered?"

  
"Most of it." Her eyes glitter in a way that makes him nervous. "I found a few more personal things I may need to deal with in the future."

  
No wonder he would feel nervous. The last time he saw that expression was on- "Ruby. You mean you'll deal with it if he retaliates against her." Her cheeks flush and eyes widen. She is looking at him intensely; her focus is unnerving. "It wouldn't be a smart move on his part, considering you've already proven to him you're a threat even when unprovoked. He'll lay off."

  
She is close to him, body burning in a way he only associated with her anger. Her hand touches his chest, just a moment, before she gently pushes him backward. It is over so quickly he thinks he's imagined it. "Yeah, I think he's learned his lesson." She winks at him before turning and sauntering away.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Junior can feel his headache ebbing away as he makes his way up the stairs. The noise fades away until he is left with the sound of his footfalls, the creak of the door, and rhythmic breathing. He's not expecting her to be there but she is, leaning against the rails like she had so many nights ago. He's not surprised by her presence anymore; she has turned up and shown up and snuck up so many times that it almost would be weirder if she wasn't just standing here. She doesn't turn even though his movements aren't quiet. He stands on her left side, facing the other way, as he had so many nights ago.

  
"You here for news?"

  
"I'm here with news." He looks at her but she is staring off at some building in the dark. "The police are going to be cracking down on a few of your clients." She exhales, her breath rising in a cloud. "I don't have names, but they're all minor crime bosses. I would suggest finding convenient excuses as to why you can't meet them for a couple months."

  
He chuckles. "Worried about me? How sweet."

  
She doesn't respond to his teasing. "I... may have been wrong about how much of a threat my target is to you." Her fingers clench on the railing. "Just, ah, watch your back."  
She _is_ worried about him. It's a surreal experience. She doesn't meet his eye, won't meet his eye, and her shoulders are set tense. He can think of all the times he's wanted to curse her or punch her or throw her out of his club. Their first meeting and the unfortunate injury to his pride, among other things. Her threats to his health, his life. Every time she has ever given him that shit-eating grin.

  
He can also think of all the times he has felt something... different. When she saved him from the Grimm. She soothed him afterward. The governor's masquerade, and she offered him personal information. Right now, when her shoulders are rigid and every tense muscle shouts real worry at him.

  
He looks away from her, over the roof of his club toward the city beyond. "Thanks. I'll do that." He can hear her turn in surprise and doesn't look. He has no idea what she's looking for; what she expected to see had he made eye contact with her. Whatever it was, he doesn't turn, and her telling action spills no secrets. She keeps her pride, facing back away from him, and her frame relaxes just enough so that her arm brushes against his side.

  
The stars are almost as beautiful as the quiet.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He is never entirely sure if she actually goes looking for trouble or if she's just good at getting into fights until he stumbles across an alarming scene one night. He sees her, back against a wall, surrounded by a semicircle of about six or seven guys. "Whassamatter, princess, don't wanna jive wit' us?"

  
She should be scared. Anyone with sense would be scared. Hell, if he were in her shoes Junior himself would admit to a little fear. She looked to be unarmed, her usual gauntlets nowhere to be seen. But the crazy woman was grinning. Actually, totally, completely grinning.

  
"I think she doesn't understand the sitiation, boss." One of the guys on the edge speaks to the first guy. "Look at her. She looks a bit too cheeky to jive with us."

  
She laughs. It is rolling and bold; Junior hears is clearly from across the street. "Please," she drawls. "You couldn't _jive_ with me if you tried." She laughs some more, even as their fists clench and their grips on their weapons tighten.

  
"Listen here, you little bi-"

  
"Oh, help me. Someone, please." Her tone is so flat and emotionless that Junior cringes. "I'm so scared. I'm shaking in my boots."

  
The 'boss' snarls. "Alrigh' you quim. Time to learn what fear really is."

  
He is out cold on the ground before anyone realizes she has moved. Her knuckle is busted open from his teeth, but she looks pleased with herself. The grin on her face is feral. Frightening. "Next?"

  
He watches as she dispatches them, one by one, and slinks away before she turns to see him.

  
\---

  
The next time he sees her it's the next night. She's only there for a moment. She slides him a drive, bandaged hand outstretched just long enough for him to raise an eyebrow. "There was a bit of a ruckus last night and the police have quite a mess of criminals on their hands." She looks right at his eyes, and he knows she saw him. He can see it in the brittleness of her grin; he can see it in the narrowing of her eyes. "So they didn't notice a small breach of security around sunrise this morning."

  
She's gone and he's left with a drive that feels much heavier than just some bits of metal.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He's not expecting her to be in the dance club. He's there to meet an old friend who had been out of the country for quite a while. He's there to have a moment's peace from business, to just relax and have a drink or two with a friendly face.

  
Expect that friendly face is having a cold one with the blonde he's seen more than enough of recently. He debates turning around and leaving. Just meeting up with his old buddy Castor later. Some other night. Some other, quieter, non-blonde night. He almost does it, too- but then she spots him and her face lights up. "Junior! What brings you to these parts?"

  
"Junior?" Castor turns and his face lights up too. Damn. "Hey, Junior! Thought you'd never get here and I'd have to spend the night with this charming young woman." He winks at Yang, and Junior is horrified by the giggle that comes out of her. "But it's good to see you, man." The embrace that follows is warm and welcoming enough that Junior regrets his thoughts of fleeing.

  
"Yeah. Nice to see you too."

  
Castor leads him back to the table where Yang is sitting, her eyes peeking at them over the rim of her glass. "So you two have met, I take it?"

  
Junior responds first. "We've dealt with each other a few times. Have a couple of the same contacts. We're-"

  
"-friends." Whatever he expects her to say, it isn't that. She has a faint smile as she traces her finger along the rim of her glass. "Been in a scrape or two. Couple of 'em have been against each other, but that's in the past."

  
It's an accurate description of their history, though Junior never thought she considered him a friend. He doesn't really know how to regard the beautiful, sly, dangerous woman across the table from him. It's certainly warmer than it had been before her words. Warmer than he expected to ever feel about her. Warmer than the mug in his hands had been the morning he woke in her bed. It wasn't a bad warmth, he decided. It was surprising and unexpected, but a nice warmth. The same warmth he had felt on the rooftop, her arm against his ribs and the stars above him. "Friends is pretty accurate," he finally responds.

  
Yang hides her grin with her glass and Castor eyes him with the sort of dry humor he had so valued in his friend. "Well that's convenient, then. Drinks and talk are always best amongst friends, and I would say this lovely lady has wormed her way into my heart awfully quickly." He rises and tips his hat to her. "The next round is on me. Be back in a mo'."

  
She watches his back disappear into the crowd before she looks over at Junior. She seems almost shy when she looks at him, finger dancing around the rim of her drink again. "So... friends, huh?"

  
Junior doesn't think there would be any pleasure in making her wait for an answer. She's just so earnest, when she is usually so hard-edged and sure of herself. "Yeah. Friends."

 

* * *

 

**T W E N T Y - T H R E E:**

She is miles away from the girl she was when she first walked into his bar. Her face harsh angles and crooked scowls; a jagged scar runs down the left side of her face and stands out against her pale skin. Her hair- her pride and joy that used to run wild and free- is pulled back into a messy braid. She still wears Ember Celica, although she now carries a rifle on her back and a dagger on her thigh. She looks hard. Dangerous. She looks nothing like his well-crafted businessman mask.

  
She is hard and dangerous and angry and she is kissing him.

  
He's kissed women before, sure, but it's never been like this. Her fingers pull at his hair and grip his tie. Her teeth nip at his lips, his back presses against the wall, and he kisses her back. "You bastard," she murmurs when she takes a breath. "Oh, you bastard." He doesn't know how to respond. He doesn't have time to respond. He wonders if drowning feels like this; it's hotter than fire but he can't get air. Her fingers burn hot against his chest before he realizes his tie is off and his shirt is open. He grabs her shoulders, grip firmer than need be, and he shoves.

  
She stumbles backwards, and her eyes are _red_. He uses the wall behind him to hide the tremble of his knees. "What the fuck!?"

  
He doesn't much care for the sick grin that graces her lips. "You found her." Yang's chest is heaving. Little flickers of light glint in her hair; he knows she's about ten seconds from pounding someone into the ground. "You glorious bastard, you found her."

  
"What are you going to do?" He doesn't usually ask that question- he doesn't even really want to ask that question- but it's out there and he knows with horrific clarity _oh god she's going to answer it._

  
Ember Celica spring to life, cocked and loaded. "I've got a murder to avenge."


End file.
